


what spring does with the cherry trees

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: When Ahsoka's heat suppressant wears off while they're on a long trip through hyperspace, Anakin lends a helping hand. Among other things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Poem XIV: Every Day You Play" by Pablo Neruda (trans. by W.S. Merwin). 
> 
> Content notes: Ahsoka's 16, and I guess the consent could be considered dubious, since she's in the grip of biological imperative. I guess also infidelity, technically, though Anakin's pretty sure he'll be able to talk Padmé around.

It's the middle of the night shift on their second day in hyperspace when Anakin realizes he hasn't seen Ahsoka since they boarded the Resolute. It's not unusual for either of them to sleep for a full rotation after a prolonged mission, but they generally check up on each other afterwards--she makes sure he finishes his after action reports and he makes sure she eats and hydrates, and they go over everything that happened and what they could do better next time.

He reaches out in the Force but gets nothing back but a vague irritation, like an itch he can't quite scratch in the back of his skull. 

He finds Rex in the ready room, hunched over a datapad and a mug of caf. They review some intelligence reports that have come in from Coruscant and speculate about their next deployment, and then he asks, "Have you seen Ahsoka?"

Rex shakes his head. "She's been holed up in her cabin since we boarded, sir. Seemed like she was in a bit of a mood." Rex sounds more fond than exasperated, probably because Ahsoka would rather save the sharper edge of her tongue for Anakin than take a bad mood out on the men. Not that she should be having _moods_ at all, but Anakin's not one to talk on that front. They'd spent three weeks longer on Ord Mantell than planned, stealing away their leave time on Coruscant, and that's worn on all of them. 

He thinks about the last time she'd disappeared while in the grip of a _mood_ , counts back the days, and it's like a light goes off somewhere in his brain. 

He gives Rex a half-smile of commiseration. "Ah. Okay, thanks."

He stops by the infirmary and picks up a heating pad and then charms some emergency chocolate out of the cook in the galley. He's got this.

He knocks on the door to Ahsoka's cabin and gets a growled, "Go away," in response.

"C'mon, Snips. It's me." He can sense her annoyed reluctance, so he says, "I have chocolate."

The door whooshes open and she's standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, dressed in nothing but a worn bathrobe. She doesn't move aside to let him in.

"Chocolate," he says with a grin, pushing past her into the room, "and a heating pad." He places both items on the desk.

"Thank you, Master," she says tightly, still hanging around by the door, "but that's not going to help."

Her breathing is ragged and her skin is beaded with sweat, making him rethink his initial assumption. Then again, maybe it takes some women that way. He hasn't really paid much attention to anyone but Padmé, whose complaints are usually limited to lower back pain and cravings for chocolate.

"I'm pretty good with a back massage," he offers gamely. 

It's not unusual for masters and padawans to have that kind of physical contact, especially after sparring or battle, but he's mostly shied away from it with Ahsoka. He's not the most media-savvy person in the galaxy, despite Obi-Wan and Padmé's instruction and the propaganda campaign he's reluctantly been a part of, but he _is_ aware of some of the more salacious rumors about him and Ahsoka out there on the holonet, how their partnership--which he's grown to rely upon--appears to outsiders with prurient minds.

She shudders visibly and a wave of heat swamps the Force bond between them, sparking through what feels like his entire nervous system. 

"It's not what you think," she says.

"Ahsoka?" His voice unexpectedly dips into a lower register.

"Just go." She sounds hoarse and a little desperate, and he finds his own pulse speeding up a little in response.

"If you're sick and you need help," he starts, and then swallows to clear the roughness from his voice. It doesn't work. "You shouldn't be alone."

She stalks towards him, stopping mere centimeters away, her eyes narrowed and her chin raised in a challenge. He remembers that Togruta are predators and he suddenly feels like prey, the hair on the back of his neck prickling in awareness. The Force pulses between them, almost palpable with need, electric under his skin. His nostrils flare at the scent of her and he finds himself matching his breathing to hers. 

She licks her lips and cocks a hip. "You gonna help me, Master?" It sounds more seductive than sarcastic, a tone he's never heard from her before. He ignores the way his belly twists pleasurably at the use of his title.

He holds her gaze. "If you tell me what it is you need, I will."

Her lekku twitch and she gives another whole-body shiver at his words. She places a hand on his chest, fingers curling into his tabards, and tips her head up to capture his lips in a kiss. He gasps against her mouth, surprised, but doesn't otherwise let himself respond.

It's not that he's never thought about it. She's a beautiful girl and they spend a ridiculous amount of time together, and despite all the Jedi prohibitions against it, he loves her. He's also caught her sending him occasional speculative glances when she thinks he's not looking, which makes him sure that he's not the only one who's ever thought of it. But he's devoted to his wife, and Ahsoka is his _padawan_. It's _inappropriate_. Not that he's ever let that stop him when he wants something. This has just been something he's never allowed himself to want.

He wraps his hands around her biceps to hold her in place and pulls back just far enough to look her in the eye. "What the kriff?"

She looks away, and her sense of shame roils in their bond. "Heat," she says.

"What?" She's not making any sense.

She rolls her eyes and that's more like the Ahsoka he's used to. "This is Biology 101, Anakin." It's funny how much she sounds like Obi-Wan sometimes. (It's less funny that that's not even a turnoff.)

"I probably slept through it." He shrugs, not even a little abashed. "C'mon, Snips. Help me out here, and I'll help you out with," he waves a hand, "whatever's got you all in a tizzy."

"Togruta women experience an estrus cycle, not a menstrual one, like human women," she says through gritted teeth. "There's a hypospray, a suppressant, for those of us who don't want to deal with it in the field and haven't mastered meditating it away." She sways toward him, the skin of her upper arms warm against his fingertips, and then straightens back up and swallows hard. "I take it twice a year, but we didn't make it back to the Temple in time for my usual appointment, and the last dose has," her lekku twitch again, "worn off." She leans up, nuzzles at his throat, and then nips at the hinge of his jaw with sharp teeth. "You still wanna help?" Her breath is warm against his ear and it's his turn to shiver.

His body is already saying _yes_ , one hundred percent, with the Force not far behind, urging him on with startling clarity. Or maybe that's Ahsoka's hunger bleeding through their bond. His brain takes a moment or three to get on board, because there are a number of factors to consider. First, they're going to be in hyperspace for another two days and Ahsoka needs him _now_. Second, there are other men on the ship, and at least half the 501st would line up to help her with this, but she's their commander and the aftermath could be awkward. Last, and most importantly, he's married and he takes those vows even more seriously than the ones he took to the Order. But he loves Ahsoka, and he knows Padmé does too, and she needs his help.

He's always been better at begging forgiveness than asking permission.

In the end, that makes it easy to look her in the eye and say, "Yes."

The sound of her surprised little gasp sends another jolt of heat through him, and then he's kissing her, really kissing her this time, lips and tongues and teeth, wet and hot and messy. 

She moans into his mouth, presses her body against him, all soft curves and taut muscle, and they stumble back until the bed hits his knees. He sits and she swarms into his lap, never breaking the kiss, her hands fumbling at his belt, his tabards, the laces of his fly, seeking out skin and friction.

"Patience," he murmurs against her left lek, and he can feel the vibration of her growl in response. He laughs, delighted and a little incredulous. And then it's his turn to gasp as she lowers her shields and nearly overwhelms him with the strength of her desire.

"Been like that since I woke up this morning," she says, shrugging out of her worn robe and giving him access to long swathes of warm, supple skin. Her breasts are firm and high, her nipples peaked and inviting and he rolls one between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes flutter closed and she grinds down against him. "I think I've been _unbelievably_ patient."

"Okay," he agrees. He pulls his tabards and tunic off and tosses them to the floor. She runs her hands across his shoulders and then down over his chest and belly, each touch a little blossom of heat beneath his skin. 

He kisses her again, slower now, sucking on her lower lip and then curling his tongue over hers, learning what she likes. With the part of his brain not currently overwhelmed by arousal, he manages to use the Force to get his trousers undone so he doesn't have to take his hands off her.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling the heady scent of sex. "Have you ever done this before?"

She gives him a pointed look. "When would I have had the time?"

He huffs a laugh. "Fair enough. Do we need contraception?"

"No, we're not genetically compatible," she says. She rocks down against him. "What is this, twenty questions?" 

"Just trying to be responsible." He gasps the last word as she reaches down and curls a hand around his dick. "You're still my padawan."

She gives him a weirdly sweet smile, considering the situation. "I'm sure I'll appreciate that later. If I'm not too embarrassed to ever speak to you again."

"It's just biology," he tells her, wrapping his hand around hers and showing her how to touch him. "We're more than this."

"If you quote Master Yoda at me right now, I might have to hit you," she says.

He smiles and kisses her nose. "Okay, point. You ready?"

"I've been ready for the last _twelve hours_ ," she says, shifting up so she can sink down onto him. 

She's hot and wet and tighter than he expected, and for someone who's never had sex before, she gets the hang of it immediately. She rides him relentlessly, her nails digging into his shoulders and her head thrown back in feral pleasure. He can feel everything she's feeling through the Force, which is sparking bright white behind his eyelids as his own pleasure builds almost unbearably. 

He strokes his gloved hand down her lek and she moans and clenches around him. She takes his left hand and moves it down between them, shows him how to rub her clit. It's larger and more prominent than a human's would be, but given the way her body's responding, it serves the same function. Good to know, he thinks vaguely, leaning in to take one of her nipples in his mouth. Her hand comes up to tangle in his hair and press him closer when he uses his teeth, her approval echoing in the Force.

Somehow, he's not surprised that they're good at doing this together the way they are at everything else.

He moves to her other nipple, licking and sucking in response to the way she tightens around him and the desperate little sounds that she makes. She pulls his hair and the tiny pinpricks of pain ratchet the tension in him even higher, heat licking up his spine and making it hard to breathe.

She comes with a hoarse cry, his name on her lips and her body shaking in his arms as she clenches tight around him. She lets her head fall forward onto his shoulder and he presses a kiss between her montrals.

He takes advantage of her languor to lay them down and roll them so he's on top, though his legs are still hobbled by his trousers and boots. Ahsoka wraps her legs around his hips and tilts herself up, ready for more even as the aftershocks of her first orgasm are still shuddering through her. She scrapes her nails down his back and then grabs his ass, fingers digging in hard.

"Come on," she says. "I need you."

He thrusts harder, deeper, like he's trying to make himself a part of her, and she surges up to meet him, as wild and desperate as if she hasn't just come, as if the universe will explode if she doesn't come again.

They pant into each other's mouths as if they're sharing the only air in the galaxy and he's so close to coming he can practically taste it. She reaches for him in the Force, sharing the waves of pleasure rolling over her as she comes again, and his orgasm hits with the kick of a starfighter punching into hyperspace.

This time, he rests his head on her shoulder and she strokes a hand through his sweaty hair, murmuring his name like a mantra. She makes a small noise of disappointment when he pulls out, but he's got to take his pants and boots off, and clean himself up.

He looks down at her sprawled out on the narrow bed, chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat, and his come painting her thighs. She's beautiful.

His heart is so full of love and lust and affection that he can't find the words to express, so he lets it roll out into the Force between them, letting that speak when all he can manage to say is, "It's gonna be all right."

She ducks her head but he can see her mouth curving in a smile.

He doesn't spend much time in the 'fresher, but he does take a long drink of water and fill a glass for her. But when he comes back out, she's fingering herself, already hungry for more. She looks like something out of the porn he'd never admit to watching when he was younger, only better because she's real and she's here and she needs _him_. He watches for a moment, his dick twitching at the sight, but not quite ready for another go yet. He sets the glass on the desk for later.

"Let me help," he says with a grin. He wraps his fingers around her ankle and she moves with him as he pulls her legs around so he can kneel on the floor between them. She smells like him now, salty and earthy and sharp, and he leans in to lick at the mess he made of her. The skin of her inner thighs is soft and hot, the texture silky and smooth. When he licks into her cunt, she lets out a shocked noise and then tries to cover her mouth with her arm.

He leans back and meets her gaze intently. "I want to hear you," he says, slipping two fingers inside her, and then putting his mouth on her clit.

She lets out another moan and tries to thrust against his face. He puts a hand on her leg to hold her in place, but her hips still hitch in desperate little movements that shouldn't be as hot as they are. 

She comes quickly this time, with a rush of wet heat against his mouth, and then she leans forward and kisses him, using her tongue to taste herself on his skin, rough little licks that tickle. His hands tighten on her thighs and she laughs softly. 

She curls a hand around his wrist and tugs. "Get up here." 

He lets her arrange him like a body pillow, her leg thrown over his, her arm around his waist, and her head on his chest. He strokes her montrals and lekku gently, and slowly they catch their breath. They're on top of the blankets, and he's too full of warmth and lassitude to get up (even if she would let him), so with the flick of his fingers and a touch of the Force, he covers them with her discarded bathrobe.

"Okay?" he asks. "You want some water? You should hydrate." He uses the Force to float the glass over, too, and grins when he doesn't spill a drop. 

She rolls her eyes but drinks when he hands her the glass. Then she hands it back to him to dispose of, hums contentedly, and wriggles against him before settling down. 

Just when he thinks she's asleep she says, "They say giving in to it makes it pass quicker, maybe shaves as much as twelve hours off, but the Jedi--" She heaves a sigh.

"Yeah?" he prompts when she doesn't go on.

"Jedi teachings suggest that meditation and the release of these feelings to the Force will ease the urge until it's no longer an issue at all." She sounds like she's quoting something she's been taught. Her mouth twists. "Rumor has it that Master Ti doesn't use the suppressant at all, even when she's away from the Temple."

Anakin nods. He can believe that. Shaak Ti is a formidable Jedi.

"But it's not true." She rests her chin on his sternum so she can meet his gaze. "I asked her about it once, and she said that if the suppressant wears off in the field, and I quote, 'one should find a caring friend to help one through the worst of it.'" She gives him a small, rueful smile. "She said, 'We're not unthinking beasts, Ahsoka, that we should be slaves to our biology, but we do live in the physical world, and it's foolish to ignore the demands of the body if there are needs to be met.'"

"That's...surprisingly sensible," he replies, and she lets out a surprised giggle. "No wonder you didn't try to do it."

"Hey."

"I'm just saying, Ahsoka. I'm here for any and all emergencies you have. It's kind of how this whole thing works."

She ducks her head. "I know, Master. It's just--It's embarrassing. I feel like a failure as a Jedi."

He remembers what it was like to be sixteen, to feel like everyone was watching everything he did and waiting to find fault, and he can imagine it's not much easier for her, as his padawan. And that's before adding in the war, which saddles her with responsibilities he hadn't had at her age. He's lucky she's not as sensitive to slights as he'd been as a teen.

"As embarrassing as that time your lightsaber got stolen and you didn't think I'd find out about it?"

That makes her look at him again. "How _did_ you find out about that?"

He gives her a knowing look, akin to the one Obi-Wan used to give him whenever he got caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. He's seen it often enough to copy it pretty exactly. "Or the time you ran off half-cocked and got caught by Cad Bane in an obvious trap?"

"I was just following Master Kenobi's advice," she says defensively. 

He laughs softly. "My point is that we make mistakes and we learn from them, and the people we care about won't hold them against us or, you know, laugh at us." He drops another kiss between her montrals. "Much."

She gives him a warm smile. "Thanks, Master." This time, she leans up and kisses him softly.

"S'what I'm here for." He wraps an arm around her. "You think you can sleep for a bit before the next wave hits?"

"Sounds like a plan," she says, yawning. "You too, Master."

He hums noncommittally. He tends to sleep better with someone in bed with him, but he doesn't expect to sleep now, even though he probably should if he wants to keep up with her when she wakes. But he needs to figure out what to tell Padmé and what Ahsoka should tell the Temple healers when they get back to Coruscant. He also wants to enjoy this as long as it lasts, because he knows how lucky he is that she shared it with him, even if she probably doesn't see it that way. It's okay, though. He can treasure it enough for the both of them.

He does fall asleep eventually, lulled by the warmth of her presence and the rhythm of her breathing, and it's the best sleep he's had in weeks.

end


End file.
